


Divine

by nevaeh666



Category: KoRn (Band)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevaeh666/pseuds/nevaeh666
Summary: *Takes place in 1994*Andrea Rivers, Andi for short, is an outcast. She has been for most of her life, and she has accepted that she always will be. The closest relationship she has is with her sister, Sarina, who encourages Andi to go to group therapy to help her deal with emotional turmoil.One day, someone new joins the group. His name is Jonathan, and he and Andi become friends pretty quickly, despite Andi's hesitation to get close to anyone.Will this new found relationship help Andi open herself up to others?
Relationships: Jonathan Davis/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This is a revised version of a fanfiction I started writing on Wattpad in April of 2016, when I was 13, almost 14. It's not the best, but I figured I should post what I have of it on here. Enjoy :)

_Beep beep._

"Ugh..."

_Beep beep._

"Shut up."

_Beep..._

I angrily hit the snooze button on my alarm clock.

_Just a few more minutes..._

In what seemed like a mere minute, the clock went off again. I turned it off and fell out of bed. Good thing my floor was carpeted.

I lay there for a few minutes, trying not to doze off.

 _What are you doing?_ I asked myself. _Get up_.

"No," I said.

_Do you know what day it is?_

I groan inwardly. Wednesday. Group therapy.

I slowly pick myself up off the floor, and stand up. I run my hands through my hair. It was knotted pretty badly, as it always was in the mornings. I make my way to my closet and look inside. I spot a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and snatch them off their hangers. I lazily sift through a drawer, and grab a bra, socks, and a pair of underwear.

I change without much enthusiasm, and hobble to the bathroom. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was worse than I originally thought, and I needed makeup. Definitely.

"I look like crap," I mutter, and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste. I brushed them swiftly, not really caring about thoroughness.

Next, I brush my hair. The task is painful, with the brush snagging and pulling every tangle. No sane person would be caught dead with a squirrel's nest on top of their head. And while I am certainly not sane, I was doing my damnedest to keep up the appearance of sanity, thank you very much.

Next task: makeup.

I put on mascara and red lipstick, so I could at least look a bit presentable.

_Why I do I bother?_

_You care what they think._

_No, I don't._

_You want them to like you._

_No, I don't!_

_You know it's true._

_Shut the fuck up._

I leave the bathroom, and go into the living room. I put on my combat boots, lacing and tying them. I grab my keys and head out to my car, wishing that it was Thursday already.

****

When I got there, no one else was there, except for one person I didn't recognize. He was sitting in the seat next to mine, which is typically empty. He is reading a pamphlet, one on the clinic, no doubt. I walk over to my seat. As I sit down, the man looks up at me. He has brown dreadlocks, brown eyes, eyebrow piercings, and a large forehead, which suited his image.

"Hello. I'm Jonathan," he says in a polite voice. He holds out his hand. I take it, and give it a firm shake.

"I'm Andi," I reply. I let go of his hand. "Are you new here?"

He smiles. "Yep," he says. He looks around. "Nice place, huh?"

I snort.

"I hope you are being sarcastic," I remark. "It sucks."

Jonathan laughs. "I guess it's no different from any other therapy session, then."

I roll my eyes. "It's _worse_. You tell all these people your problems, they pretend to care, and you have to pretend to care about theirs."

Jonathan looked surprised. I wonder if I offended him.

Why should I care? I'm not here to make friends.

Two women came in: Ariel and Tory. They took their seats across from Jonathan and I. They gave him a glance, then started to talk amongst themselves. The rest of the group came in at once, and took their seats. The therapist, Dr. Jackson, sat on the other side of Jonathan.

"Good morning," Dr. Jackson chirped. "How have you guys been?"

No one answered, just stared at the overly upbeat therapist.

"Okay... well, let's get started, shall we?" She said, messing with her clipboard. She pointed her pen at Jonathan. "Let's start with you, sir. Tell us your name, and one fact about yourself."

Jonathan looked around at everyone, and took a deep breath. "My name is Jonathan Davis, and I used to be a coroner's assistant."

Dr. Jackson nodded, and looked at me. "Ms. Rivers?"

"My name is Andi Rivers, and I would _really_ rather not be here."

Dr. Jackson frowned.

"Andi..."

I shot her a glance. She pursed her lips.

"Alright, moving on..."

I didn't pay attention as the rest of the group did the exercise. It was like every first day of school, and it got really annoying, _really_ fast.

Once everyone was done sharing, we had "free time", where you basically get to talk about stupid shit until the session was over, and we could finally go home. Everyone talked, except for Jonathan and I. I was content with this.

My peace was shattered when Jonathan turned towards me, and asked, "Do we have to do this every session?"

I nod.

"Why do you come? You seem to loathe being here" He queried.

I swallowed. This is what I've been asking myself everyday since I've been coming. I looked at him, my lips in a tight smile. "I do it for my sister. She wants me to get better. If it were up to me, I'd be locked up in my house, sleeping all day."

Jonathan laughed. It was strange that someone as light-hearted as him would be in therapy. So I asked him why he was here. He said he had depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

"I have depression and anxiety, too." I said.

Talking to him was relaxing for some odd reason. It was uncharacteristic of me to gain any sort of satisfaction from talking to anyone I knew (aside from my sister and cousin, occasionally), much less someone I had just met. But Jonathan had a calming energy and presence, and he was someone I felt I could relate to.

When the session ended, we headed for the door. While everyone was rushing out into the parking lot, Jonathan put a hand on my shoulder, and I look up into his soft brown eyes.

"It was nice talking to you," he said. "I hope to see you again."

I smiled politely. "And the same to you."

After we said farewell, he slipped a small piece of paper into my hand. I walk to my car. I started it, and let out a sigh as the AC came on, cool air washing over me. I hadn't realized it, but my face was flushed. Most likely from the Californian heat.

I unfold the paper, now lightly damp from perspiration. On it, written in a messy script, was a phone number. I could barely make out the digits, but I had an idea of what they were.

I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home, head buzzing. Things could have been a whole lot worse.


	2. Chapter 2

When I got home, I collapsed on the couch. I unlaced my boots and pulled them off, setting them down by my coffee table. I search for the remote, finding it behind the armrest and the cushion I was sitting on, and turned on the TV.

As I flipped through the stations, I heard a knock at the door.

It was Sarina, my sister. She always came over on Wednesdays after therapy, and fired a barrage of questions about my day and what we did. She was eccentric, the exact opposite of me. It was a mystery how two people who grew up in the same environment turned out to be completely different people, but, _c'est la vie_ I guess.

I got up and walked over to the door. I turned the doorknob, but before I could open the door completely, Sarina barged in.

"Hi, Andi!" She squeaked. She ran and jumped onto the couch, setting her handbag on my coffee table. I closed the door and followed.

"How was therapy?" She asked in her bright voice.

"The same as always," I yawned. "But I met someone new."

Sarina's eyes widened as she leaned forward. "Really?" She asked, curious.

_Why did I say anything?_

I sunk further into the couch. "Yeah."

She leaned in closer. "Man or woman?"

I sighed. "A man."

Sarina squealed. "Is he cute?"

_Oh my God..._

I cross my arms and glare at my sister. "Does it matter?" I ask.

She leaned back, looking more serious than I've ever seen her. She spoke in a firm voice. "Answer the question."

I put my head in my hands. "I don't know! He isn't ugly."

Sarina giggled. "In that case, what's his name?"

"Jonathan," I said shortly, hoping she would get the hint and drop the matter.

But, she didn't.

"Aw, is Andi grumpy because I'm asking questions about her boyfriend?" She said in a baby voice.

I raised my head in defiance and looked her straight in the eye. "He's not my boyfriend. We're not even _friends._ "

Sarina shrunk back. "I'm sorry. I was just joking."

I huffed.

"Don't be mad," Sarina said, lowering her voice. "I didn't mean it."

An important thing to note? I get mad easily.

My face burned in shame.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "It's just... I'm tired. And, I don't know how I should feel about Jonathan."

She furrowed her brow in concern. Or confusion. Or both.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... He's... _really_ nice," I replied. "I felt... Something. A connection, I guess? I don't know."

"Like, a romantic connection?"

"What? No! I mean... Like... An understanding. Unspoken, but it was there."

Sarina nodded. "Well, that's good. That's progress."

"I guess."

She smiled. "This is good for you, I think. You should get to know him."

I knew she was right. I was so set in my ways, so hesitant to let anyone in. But I knew, deep down, I wanted to have some sort of relationship with somebody. I just didn't know _how_.

We stared in silence at the TV. Some stupid cooking show. The kind your mother would watch, while telling your father "I should make that" everytime a new dish was made, but never getting around to it.

At least, that's what my mom did.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sarina turn towards me. When I looked at her, she was smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"You wanna go shopping?"

"What for?"

"Well," she said, her smile widening. "I was thinking I should get you a dress. A change of pace from your usual attire. You down?"

I groan.

"Sarina, I don't-"

"Come _on_. Please? For me?" She pleaded, putting on her best Bambi face and batting her eyelashes.

"Oh... Alright. Fine."

She squealed. I'm fairly certain my ears bled, but it's whatever.

I put on my boots and laced them, tying them in a neat bow.

Sarina grabbed my hand and pulled me off the couch, practically dragging me to the door.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


End file.
